


Jaime Lannister Investigations - Episode 2 of 13

by ShirleyAnn66



Series: Jaime Lannister Investigations [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Modern AU, No ankle porn but possibly leg porn in later chapters, Non-graphic domestic violence situations, Remington Steele AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-23 08:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8320756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/pseuds/ShirleyAnn66
Summary: Series Summary:  The great detective, Jaime Lannister?  He doesn’t exist. I invented him.  It was working like a charm—until the day he walked in, with his green eyes and mysterious past.Episode 2:  Catelyn Stark asks Jaime and Brienne to watch over her youngest daughter, Arya—home for spring break—while the rest of the family goes on holiday to the Summer Isles.  But the assignment isn’t quite as easy as it seems.





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** Non-graphic domestic violence situations.
> 
>  **A/N:** I'd intended to post each episode in its entirety but this one is being a bear. :( I need incentive to focus and finish this episode especially with National Novel Writing Month on the horizon. Updates will be quick (i.e., it should be only be hours or days between chapter updates rather than a week).

Awesome banner by the equally awesome justme. :)

*/*/*/*/*

 

Brienne scowls as she walks in to the Jaime Lannister Investigations office and finds the man now answering to that name casually lounging in one of the reception area’s armchairs, reading a newspaper.

He lowers it and glances at her, raising an eyebrow as he makes a show of checking his watch.

“Piss off,” she growls.

“Is that any way to speak to your boss?” Jaime says.  “And what did I tell you about working undercover?”

“You’re not my boss, we’re not undercover, and I will speak to you any way I please!”  She glances round.  “Where’s Bronna?”

“She’ll be late,” Jaime says absently, going back to his paper.  “She had an eventful night.”

“She called in?”

“She didn’t have to,” he says as he folds the paper and holds it out to her.  Brienne takes it with a puzzled frown that turns to dismay.

There, on the front page of the entertainment section, is a picture of Bronna caught in mid-yell while a slender blonde man grips her arm.  Brienne’s eyes narrow when she sees how deeply the man’s fingers are biting into Bronna’s flesh.

The headline— _Trouble in the Kingdom?_ —just makes her eyes narrow even more.  And what’s beneath it— _Joffrey Baratheon, The Crown Prince of Rock, in vicious brawl with fiancée outside The DragonPit nightclub_ —makes her grind her teeth.

Brienne quickly scans the story and she growls as she shoves the paper back into Jaime’s hands.

“Police were called,” Jaime says cheerfully as he follows her into her office.

“At least Bronna apparently had Joffrey in a headlock and crying for mercy by the time they arrived,” Brienne mutters.  “I’m sure her father will be pleased.” She shakes her head.

“Why are they getting married again?” Jaime asks curiously, settling gracefully in the chair in front of her desk.  Her hormones skip a beat at the sight of his long, lanky limbs as he leans back and smirks.

“Her stepmother is a huge fan of Joffrey’s dad,” she says, trying to ignore her body’s reaction.  “Falyse is the official founding member of the ‘One-and-Only Absolutely Official Big Bobby B King of Rock and Roll Fan Club’, which she started back when she was young—during the Age of Magic, most likely.”  She shakes her head.  “As for Bronna and Joffrey—I’m not certain if either one actually asked the other to marry them.  There was just an announcement one day and nobody bothered to deny it.”

“Judging from the look in the kid’s eyes in that picture, he probably couldn’t remember if he asked or not.  Bronna in the same condition?”

“At the time, yes.”  Brienne’s expression turns thoughtful.  “She still likes to party but you know, she’s kept herself in check ever since she woke up engaged to that idiot.  She says she no longer enjoys surprises in the morning.”  She grimaces.  “‘The Crown Prince of Rock’,” she mutters in disgust.

A discreet chime sounds, telling them someone has walked into the outer office.  Jaime and Brienne exchange a glance then return to the reception desk.  There they find an attractive, middle-aged woman.  She stands straight and proud, her gray-streaked auburn hair tucked neatly into a bun.  Her face is kind and her smile genuine when she sees Brienne.

“Catelyn,” Brienne says, surprised, and takes the hand the woman extends to her.

“Brienne,” Catelyn says, “it’s been too long!”  She reaches up and pecks Brienne’s cheek.  “Of course, you’ve seen my husband much more recently,” she adds and chuckles.

Brienne winces.  Even after six weeks, the unsolved theft of the sword hilt and dragon bone from the National History Museum along with the subsequent disappearance of the Museum Director still rankles.

“How is Chief Stark?” Jaime asks smoothly and Brienne watches as Catelyn and Jaime thoughtfully consider each other.

“Ned is fine,” Catelyn says after a moment.  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Lannister.  Your help—and discretion—with that previous matter is one of the reasons I’ve sought you out again.”

“Oh?” Jaime says, taking a step forward and is stopped by a discreet elbow to his ribs.

“We here at Jaime Lannister Investigations are always happy to help,” Brienne says.  “Why don’t we go into my office?  We don’t need to bother Mr. Lannister—”

“Oh, no!  I want Mr. Lannister himself this time!” Catelyn says and smiles at Jaime. “From what I’ve seen of the interview you did with my sister, you have just the personality for the job.”

Brienne grits her teeth as Jaime gives her a quick, mocking smirk and turns up the charm for Catelyn.

“How can we be of assistance?” he purrs and waves her towards his until-recently-never-used office.

“I want you to watch my daughter, Arya, while we’re away in the Summer Isles.  She’s visiting King’s Landing during her spring break from university.”

Jaime’s smile falters.  “Just let me confer with my associate,” he says and practically drags Brienne aside while Catelyn continues on into the office.

“We’re _babysitters_?” he growls.

Brienne rolls her eyes.  “We owe her,” she hisses in reply. 

She walks into the office and smiles at Catelyn.  “We’d love to,” she says.

*/*/*/*/*

 


	2. One

Bronna arrives just as they’re showing Catelyn out.

Catelyn pauses, frowning a little. “Aren’t you—?”

Bronna’s smile is completely professional.  “Bronna Stokeworth, yes,” she says and shakes Catelyn’s hand.

Catelyn turns to Jaime and Brienne. “Mayhaps it would be better if Arya doesn’t meet Ms Stokeworth while you’re watching her,” she says, her voice chilly.  “She detests Joffrey Baratheon.”  She gives them a nod of farewell and leaves.

Bronna’s fixed smile disappears at the same time Catelyn turns the corner to the elevators.  “Don’t we all,” she mutters as she walks to her desk.  She sets her purse down then looks at Jaime and Brienne.  “We’re babysitters now?”

The look Jaime shoots Brienne screams ‘I told you so’, but he thankfully says nothing.

“Not exactly,” Brienne says.  “Arya’s eighteen, almost nineteen.  She’s studying at Winterfell University and is going to be in King’s Landing for spring break.  Unfortunately, it’s a spur of the moment visit and the rest of her family has already committed to spending the week in the Summer Isles with friends.”

“Spring break in King’s Landing?” Bronna says, crinkling her nose.  “What did she do to be punished like that?”

“I’m sure she missed her family,” Brienne says primly.  “It’s just unfortunate the surprise didn’t work out.”

Bronna glances at Jaime.

“If we google Winterfell, Arya, and scandal, think we’ll get any hits?” Jaime asks with a wicked grin.

“Or we can just ask Sam,” Bronna says.  They stare each other down for a moment, then both sprint for Sam’s cubbyhole, leaving Brienne fruitlessly protesting after them.

*/*/*/*/*

They don’t find anything obvious and when Sam offers to search Arya’s credit card and passport activity, Brienne puts a firm stop to it all.

“Spoilsport,” Jaime mutters as he follows her out of Sam’s office.

She glowers and says, “Go…look pretty or something.

*/*/*/*/*

They arrive at the Stark house early that evening.  There they find the two youngest boys running excitedly through the house, their far-too-large dogs bounding after them.  The house is palatial, but after almost being knocked down not once, not twice, but three times, Brienne is ready to hang both the boys and their hells’ hounds by their ankles out a tower window.

Catelyn gives her a tired smile.  “My apologies, Brienne.  We’re letting them get the excitement out of their systems.  The animals are going to a kennel while we’re gone, and I’m tempted to leave the dogs there, too.”

Brienne’s eyes pop wide.  When Jaime’s warm, husky chuckle fills the air, Brienne can’t help the amused smile curving her own lips.

Catelyn leads them deeper into the house.

“Forgive the mess, but it takes a lot of organization to go away for a week!  At least Jon and Robb have to make their own arrangements for their dogs.”

“How is Jon?” Brienne asks.

“Better.  Definitely more cheerful now that he knows the truth about his birth parents.  Why Ned—” Catelyn stops abruptly, her hand on the door knob, and scowls, then smooths her expression.  “Arya arrived about an hour ago,” she says, opening the door.  “Sansa picked her up at the airport and—”

“Shut up, _shut up_ , SHUT UP!”

They pause on the threshold, taking in the flushed faces and clenched hands of the two young women glaring daggers at each other.

“—they’ve been catching up ever since,” Catelyn finishes, her voice dry.

Both girls start talking at once and while Brienne can barely understand a word of it, she does know they’re each blaming the other for starting the fight.

“Enough!” Catelyn says firmly, and the girls stop in mid-word.  “You would think you could get along for an hour, especially since it’s been almost three months since you’ve seen each other.  And you’ll only have another hour or so before we leave for the Summer Isles!”

“But Mom!  Arya—”

“Sansa!  You are twenty-one years old!  You should be able to hold your temper by now!  Is this any way for a lady to behave?”

“But she—”

Catelyn raises her hand and Sansa falls silent with a pout.

“Go find Lady and Nymeria and corral Bran and Rickon and their hounds.  Your father will be home soon, and then we have to head to the kennels and get to the airport.”

Sansa’s pout just gets more pronounced.

“Oh, stop pouting, Sansa,” Arya says with disdain, “at least you’re going to the Summer Isles!  I’m stuck here!”

“Hah!  And whose fault is that, you—”

“Enough, I said!”  Catelyn snaps.  “Go!”

Sansa shoots Arya a resentful glare as she heads for the door then stops abruptly as she finally notices Jaime and Brienne.  Brienne raises a mental eyebrow as Sansa instantly transforms into a smoothly polite young woman, every inch the lady her mother had named her.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Sansa says prettily.  “I didn’t realize we had guests.”

“Obviously,” Jaime mutters in Brienne’s ear and Brienne squirms in embarrassment for Catelyn and the girls, as Jaime steps forward, his left hand held out.

“Jaime Lannister,” he says and Brienne watches as Sansa’s eyes widen and glaze a little as she takes the full brunt of Jaime’s careless charm.

“Sansa Stark.  Pleasure to meet you,” she says with a smile, and with the smile, Sansa is the spitting image of Catelyn.

“And I, you.”  He turns to the still-scowling, very short brunette girl, now turning her death-glare in his direction.  “You must be Arya,” he says, his smile still just as charming.

Arya’s glare doesn’t ease.  She flicks contemptuous eyes over him then turns to Catelyn.

“Honestly, Mother, this is humiliating!  I don’t need a babysitter!”

Catelyn’s lips tighten.  “Obviously, you do,” she snaps.  “Running off to Braavos with that—that— _musician_!”

“He fronts a _band_ , Mother, called The Faceless Men, and they’re _amazing_!”

“By the gods, Arya, you are not a _groupie_!”

Arya rolls her eyes.  “ _Of course_ I’m not a groupie!  They want me to join the band!”

Catelyn closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Regardless,” she says through gritted teeth, “you are not to do anything stupid while we’re on vacation with Robert and his family.”  She grimaces as she hears the shouts of the boys and the massive dogs running through the halls.  “Although you might be the lucky one,” she mutters.

*/*/*/*/*

Chief of Police Eddard Stark arrives home and sends his children scurrying to finish their packing and to corral their animals.

Except Arya.

Ned closets himself with his youngest daughter and there’s tension in the air even as the other children hurry to obey their father.  When Ned strides out, closing the door behind him, he gives Jaime and Brienne a thoughtful look.

“Arya may do whatever she wishes, within reason, so long as she’s home by midnight,” he says in his solemn way.  “Cat told you what happened?”

“Vaguely,” Brienne says.

“Arya fancies herself a musician.  She ran away to Braavos with a band called the Faceless Men.  I had to send Jon to drag her back, kicking and screaming, so he says.  This… _band_ plays some gods-awful music that’s all screeching and screaming and violent lyrics and imagery I would prefer my daughter not know about.  But…I suppose you can’t protect your children forever.”  He sighs.  “I would cancel this trip but my friend made the arrangements months ago and it’s been so long since we’ve spent any time together, we can’t back out on him now.”  He shakes his head.  “Just keep Arya here, in King’s Landing, until our return, but I can’t ground her—she _is_ an adult now…at least in the eyes of the law.”  Ned gives them a rueful grimace.  “She’s always been a wild wolf,” he says, and there’s a hint of both disappointment and pride in his voice.

*/*/*/*/*

The Stark family finally take their leave with three of their children and four—four!—massive dogs in tow.  Arya refuses to see them off, sulking in the drawing room where her father had left her.  Jaime and Brienne watch the family leave then exchange bemused glances as they go to speak with Arya. 

Brienne knocks once and they walk into the room only to find it empty, the curtain blowing in the open window.

Brienne’s jaw drops.

“This comes as no surprise,” Jaime says with a sigh.

*/*/*/*/*


	3. Two

Sam grumbles as he trudges into the Jaime Lannister Investigations office but his fingers fly over the keyboard as he accesses the various surveillance cameras surrounding the Stark home.

“Should I ask how you’re doing that?” Jaime says.

“You can,” Sam says without taking his eyes from the screen, “but not in front of her.”

Brienne scowls at Jaime.  “You’ve only been here six weeks and you’ve already corrupted my staff,” she snaps.

Jaime says, “Hey, Sam, how did you find out I wasn’t Petyr Joshua or Alexandre Dyle?”

“Well, first I—”

“Never mind!” Brienne says.  “I get the point.”

“Jaime may not have corrupted us, but he has made me watch more classic movies than I ever knew existed,” Sam says cheerfully.

“Oh, gods, don’t remind me,” Brienne groans.

“You guys love it,” Jaime says.

“Movie night is a true team bonding experience,” Brienne says in a dry monotone, “especially with the accompanying lecture.”

Jaime raises an eyebrow.  “I’m sensing sarcasm.”

Now it’s Brienne’s turn to raise an eyebrow.  “Really?”

“I’ve got her,” Sam says.

*/*/*/*/*

The burger joint is brightly lit and busy, but even with all the crowded tables, Arya is easy to spot.  She’s tucked in a corner booth with a dark haired, dark-eyed young man who looks to be a couple years older that she is.  Arya scowls when she notices Jaime and Brienne winding their way through the restaurant towards them.

Oh, for—” Arya says, rolling her eyes and putting her hamburger down with a disgusted thud as they fetch up to the table.

The young man looks up at them with a curious frown then says, “Who’s the old man?”

Jaime scowls while Brienne hides a smirk.  “ _Old man?_ ” Jaime growls.

The boy points his chin at Jaime.  “And who’s the pretty one?”

Now it’s Brienne’s turn to scowl and Jaime’s to smirk.

“We are your escorts for the evening,” Brienne says coldly, drawing herself up to her full height.

“Oh, gods, it’s a woman!”

Jaime’s hand clamps onto the younger man’s shoulder and green eyes stare into brown.  After a long moment, the boy glances down as he shakes Jaime’s hand away.

“Stop being an ass, Gendry,” Arya mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Why?  You don’t!”

“Stop it,” Brienne hisses and turns to Arya, her expression stern.  “Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Arya snorts.  Brienne taps her finger on the table and Arya glowers up at her.  Brienne says, “The easy way is we escort you to wherever you wish to go and sit on the sidelines while you two have fun until we have to leave to get you home by midnight—which I'm assuming you promised your father you would do?”

Arya flushes and glares down at the innocent hamburger.

“Midnight?” Gendry says with a smirk then yelps as Arya's foot connects with his shin beneath the table.  He rubs his leg with a scowl and says, “What's the hard way?”

“We lock Arya in her house and we watch old movies for a week.”  She tilts her head towards Jaime.  “And he’ll give you a lecture on each one.”

Jaime’s face lights up.  “I vote for the hard way!”

“Oh, gods,” his three companions groan.

“See,” Jaime says, “you’re already agreeing on something!”

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime and Brienne sit at a table a little way from Arya and Gendry where both of them can keep an eye on the young couple without being overly conspicuous.  On their part, Arya and Gendry seem to have accepted Jaime and Brienne's presence, chatting together without glaring too often at them, and even laughing and joking with their waitress

When the waitress brings the bill, Arya slides from the booth and heads towards the washrooms, giving Jaime and Brienne a glare that should have left them lifeless on the floor.

“Are you going to follow her?” Jaime asks curiously.

“She’s not our prisoner,” Brienne mutters, keeping a sharp eye on the hallway where Arya disappeared.

Jaime merely raises an eyebrow as he watches Gendry speak to the waitress, with the occasional glance in their direction.  The waitress nods and gives them a wide-eyed look as she hurries back to the register near the restaurant doors.

Gendry slides from the booth as two burly Gold Cloaks walk into the restaurant.  He gives Jaime and Brienne one last smirk as he disappears into the same hallway Arya had gone down.

“They’re running,” Jaime says, rising to his feet—only to be stopped by the two police officers, the waitress hovering behind them, wringing her hands.

“These are the ones, officers,” she says anxiously.  “They're stalking those sweet kids.”  She glares at them.  “Probably planning on kidnapping them or worse!”

Jaime's eyes widen and he slowly eases back onto his chair.

*/*/*/*/*

It takes a good forty minutes, the fact the two sweet kids in question are nowhere in sight, and a disgusted Detective Randyll Tarly grudgingly confirming their identities before the Gold Cloaks finally let them leave the police station.

They call a taxi and return to Brienne's car while Jaime calls Sam and sets him to searching camera feeds as well as Arya's credit cards and bank account activity, and to search out Gendry’s last name.

“Well, they're creative, I'll give them that,” Jaime says as he pays the driver.

“And they stuck us with the bill at the restaurant, too,” Brienne grumbles.

Jaime shakes his head.  “I know somebody who could make use of their talents.”

“Over my dead body!”

Jaime laughs.  “Just saying, if they ever need a job...”

Brienne rolls her eyes as her phone rings.

“Please tell me you've found them,” she says.

“Arya used a bank machine at the corner of Barristan Street and King’s Road about fifteen minutes ago.”

“You're a genius, Sam,” Brienne says.

“Stick around,” Jaime calls loud enough for Sam to hear, “we'll probably need you again!”

*/*/*/*/*

The bank machine is in a trendy part of new King’s Landing, across the Blackwater from the old city.  The area is shiny with chrome and steel and peppered with high-end coffee shops and pubs.

“This whole place doesn't seem like Arya's style,” Jaime murmurs as they glance in the window of another coffee shop while they stroll down the street, scanning the few people at the tables inside.

Brienne nods.  “More like Sansa's, I suspect.”

“Ridiculously over-priced coffee and clubs with a strict dress code?  I suspect you're right.”

They share a surprisingly companionable smile when three people step out of a pub a few doors down from them and turn in their direction.  Two of the people stop dead in their tracks, causing the third to run into his companions.  Jaime and Brienne stare at them in surprise in the moment before Arya and Gendry turn on their heels and take off running in the opposite direction, leaving their companion confusedly looking round behind them.  Jaime and Brienne sprint after them, bumping into the three men who had left the pub behind the fleeing fugitives and Brienne calls an apology over her shoulder.

Arya and Gendry dart into a back alley with Jaime and Brienne hard on their heels.  All four of them skid to a halt when they see the brick wall at the far end.

“Ah, _man,_ ” Arya whines as she turns to face Jaime and Brienne.

“Do you kids need help?”

They turn to find the three men from the pub at the mouth of the alley.  They’re all peering suspiciously at them with hard eyes and stern mouths.

“Hey!  Are these the babysitters you told me about?”

They all turn to look at the new speaker:  the companion who had come out of the pub with Arya and Gendry.

“Shut up, Hot Pie!” Arya snaps, while the sandy haired man thoughtfully considers them all.

“Babysitters?” he says, his voice soft.

“We prefer the term ‘bodyguards’, actually,” Jaime says with a tight smile, his green eyes watchful.

“They were running away from you,” says one of the other men.  He’s of medium build with a face so ordinary Brienne knows she won't remember it for more than five minutes once he's out of her sight.

“A game we play,” Brienne says, and hopes her face is red enough from exertion to hide the lie.  “It's a test.”

“A game?” says the third man.  He’s overweight with brown hair and there’s a cold gleam in his eyes that sends a shiver down Brienne's spine.

“Is any of this true?” the sandy-haired man says, looking at Arya and Gendry.

Arya opens her mouth then closes it abruptly as Gendry grabs her arm and gives her a significant look.  She glowers then sighs.  “Yes, it’s all true,” she mutters.  “They’re my ‘bodyguards’—although they’re really just babysitters.”

Jaime’s smile is as thin as a knife.  “You’re an adult now, Arya, you should remember that.”  He turns to the three watching men.  “Satisfied?”

They stand motionless, and then the brown-haired man says to Arya, “Are you sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m sure,” Arya says, then, reluctantly, “thanks.”

The three men leave and Arya and Gendry’s friend wanders into the alley, a hopeful smile on his round face.

“Are we still going to the Onion Knight?” he asks.  He glances at Jaime and Brienne.  “It’s open mike night and Gendry’s supposed to play there with his band.”

Brienne raises an eyebrow.  “Your band?”

Gendry nods sullenly.  “The Brotherhood without Banners.”

“What do you play?”

“Fucking _riverlands_ ,” Arya spits.  “The music of the _smallfolk_.”

“Better than that death metal crap you play!  _Faceless Men_ —what kind of shit name is _that_?”

Hot Pie just looks resigned at his friends’ bickering.

“Look,” Brienne says, “we can all go to this—what is it again?”

“The Onion Knight,” Hot Pie says helpfully.

“The Onion Knight, and Gendry can play with his band and then we can all go back to the Stark house and—I don’t know—order in some Dornish food and—”

“Watch old movies?” Jaime says with a smirk.

Arya rolls her eyes.  “ _Gods_ ,” she mutters as she pushes past them and stomps out of the alley.

*/*/*/*/*

They walk to the Onion Knight where Gendry’s band is relatively well received during their turn at the open mike.  Jaime and Brienne give the kids and their friends space and Brienne is feeling rather pleased by the time they settle the bill and leave the bar.  Gendry and Hot Pie and even Arya seem to be happy and she is cautiously optimistic that their evening is going to end on a much better note than it began.

The three kids stroll in front of them, talking in low voices and then, as one, they give a sly glance over their shoulders at Jaime and Brienne and break into a run, Hot Pie lagging a few steps behind the other two.

Jaime and Brienne curse and speed after them.  They follow the kids round a corner onto a darkened side street only to find it already empty.  They stop, listening hard, trying to pick up where the three idiots may have gone when they hear running footsteps behind them.

Brienne’s only half-turned when two silver prongs bite into her shoulder and the world goes first white and then black.

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne doesn’t know how long she’s unconscious but it doesn’t feel like a long time—although her aching body makes her wish she could return to that blessed darkness.  Instead, she blinks her eyes open and frowns up at the sky.  Her head is throbbing but a slow and careful inventory of her body tells her she has no serious injuries.

She turns her head and comes face to face with Jaime, who’s lying on his stomach, still looking handsome even with his mouth half-open and his cheek scrunched against the pavement.  She nudges his shoulder and is relieved when he groans.

“Jaime,” she croaks.  “Jaime?”

His eyes flutter open, blank and confused as he stares at her and she has the absurd thought that if the sight of a face like hers this close to his doesn’t wake him up, nothing would.

A frown creases his forehead.  “Brienne?” he says.  “What happened?”

“I think they had some of their friends taze us,” she says.

Jaime groans.  “Tasers?  Gods, they _really_ want to go somewhere without us.  Where are we?”

She slowly sits up and glances round.  They’re no longer on the side street but in an alley.  “Another alley,” she says as Jaime slowly rolls onto his back and sits up.

Jaime grimaces.  “I need to Pysol my face as soon as possible.”

Brienne nods then winces as pain shoots through her head at the movement.  Her hand drops to her waist to pull some Pycellenol from her purse and she frowns.

“My purse,” she mutters, peering round the alley hoping against hope the little brats had left the purse in plain sight.

Jaime’s hand goes to his pocket.  “My wallet,” he groans.  He pulls up his shirt cuff.  “And my watch.”

“Mine, too,” Brienne groans, propping her elbows on her knees and covering her face with her hands. “Maybe it really was just a random mugging.”

“What self-respecting mugger would leave this?” Jaime asks, giving her a small wave of his gold hand.

Brienne scowls.  “Is it even real gold?”

“Real enough to be worth some coin,” Jaime says.

They slowly clamber to their feet and start walking, their bodies aching with each step.

“Let's hope they left the car,” Jaime says.

“Gods, yes,” Brienne groans.

*/*/*/*/*

The car is where they left it but all four tires are flattened.  They stare at it and sigh.

“Do you have a tire pump?” Jaime asks.

“Of course,” Brienne says.  She crouches down to search for the spare key hidden in the tire well and comes up empty.  She rocks back on her heels and scowls.

“I guess we forgot to put it back,” she mutters, flushing and avoiding Jaime’s eyes.

He shrugs.  “Do you have a car alarm?” he asks, limping to the back of the car.

“No.  Didn’t want it going off during surveillance.”

“Good point,” he murmurs and opens the trunk.

She gapes at him.  “How did--?  You know what?  I don’t want to know!”

“I didn’t do anything,” he says, “it was already open.”

She groans and joins him at the rear of the vehicle where they silently stare into the completely empty space.

“Well, she’s certainly thought of everything,” Brienne finally says with a sigh.

“Very well planned,” Jaime says drily.

“ _Too_ well planned?” Brienne asks as she slams the trunk closed.  Her eye is caught by what appears to be a slight movement in the alley to her left.

“ _Definitely_ too well planned,” Jaime agrees as he moves to the passenger door.  “Any money in the car?”

“Some change in the glove box and twenty dragons hidden in the passenger seat,” she says absently, trying to keep her eyes on the alley without appearing to watch it.

“Well, that should at least pay for a taxi and a phone call, assuming we can find a pay phone,” Jaime says as he jimmies the lock on the passenger door.

“Where--?  How--?” she sputters as the door pops open and he smirks.

“A gentleman must keep his secrets, my lady,” he purrs even as his eyes flick to look over her shoulder then back to her.  He gives her the tiniest nod and her eyes widen before she spins and takes off running towards the alley.

She hears muttered curses and yelps and then Arya and Gendry dart down the street, Jaime and Brienne in hot pursuit.

“Quick little buggers, aren’t they?” Jaime pants, easily keeping pace beside her.

Brienne saves her breath because despite their longer strides Jaime’s right and the pair in front of them is widening their lead.

“They’re heading for the Mud Gate Bridge,” Brienne grunts out.

“Of course they are,” Jaime groans and puts on a burst of speed.

The Mud Gate Bridge is the oldest bridge in King’s Landing, going over the Blackwater and connecting the newer parts of King’s Landing with the older city.  It’s constantly under repair and pedestrians are not supposed to be on the bridge since the city still hasn’t replaced the railings separating the sidewalk from the roadway after tearing them down two years earlier.  Instead, there’s a series of orange traffic cones that are constantly being clipped by vehicles as they tear across the bridge.  The one concession to road safety is the short railing that lines the edge of the bridge.

Naturally, Arya and Gendry streak across this potentially dangerous roadway.

“Babysitting, huh?” Brienne gasps as they reach the bridge themselves.

“Right now, I’d prefer it,” Jaime groans back.

Their feet pound on the pavement as they race along the edge of the bridge and Brienne curses when she realizes their quarry has reached the other side and is already out of sight.  They pour on speed and only slow when they’re bathed in light from a car behind them.  They glance over their shoulders and are momentarily blinded by the bright beam of its headlights broken only each orange cone as it goes flying.  The engine roars and with a sinking horror, they realize the car’s on the sidewalk and barrelling straight for them.

“Holy Sev—” Jaime says as he grabs Brienne round the waist and topples them over the short railing and into the Blackwater.

*/*/*/*/*

They crawl up onto the river bank, panting and gasping for air.  They lie back, staring up at the stars, twinkling so peacefully above them.

“Hot Pie?” Jaime croaks out.

“Who else could it have been?” Brienne groans.

They lie in silence, letting the deceptively peaceful moment seep into their soaked and battered bodies.

“My vote?” Jaime finally says when his breathing becomes more regular.  “Let’s leave the stupid child to her fate.”

Brienne frowns when she realizes the idea is far too appealing.

“Are you so craven, then?” she mocks.

Jaime turns his head and glares then turns his gaze back up to the stars.

“She’s very determined,” Brienne says thoughtfully as their breathing slows.

“Extremely.”

“Mayhaps she has a destination in mind.  And a plan for what’s she’s going to do once she gets there,” Brienne says as she sits up and cranes her neck to look up at the embankment behind them.

“Mayhaps,” Jaime agrees and sits up with a groan.  He looks behind them as well then glances at Brienne.  He scrambles to his feet and holds out his hand to help her to her feet.  He gestures towards the top of the embankment.  “After you, my lady,” he says with a flourish.

*/*/*/*/*

As they help each other up the embankment, Jaime grumbles, “Swimming the river looked way more fun in _Myrrish Holiday_.”

“Different river,” Brienne says as they finally reach the top, “and let’s face it: you’re no Gregor Peckledon.”

“I could send you back into the river, wench.”

She rolls her eyes as Jaime grins then he puts his hands on his hips and stretches his back, his wet and now muddy clothes clinging to every inch of him.  He still looks gorgeous, she thinks dimly, and doesn’t know whether she should curse him or bless him.

“All right, Brienne,” Jaime says, startling her out of her thoughts, “where do you think they’ve gone?”

“What bands are playing tonight?” she asks and Jaime freezes then laughs.

“I wish you had thought of that a couple hours ago,” he says.  “Well, no self-respecting club will let us in looking like this!”

She scowls.  “By the time we get back to our apartments, shower and change, Arya and Gendry could be long gone with the Faceless Men.”

“We should have a couple hours if the band is playing tonight, and if Arya’s going to play with them.  Unless they want to kill their careers before they truly begin, they’ll have to play their gig so they should be stuck in one place until just before last call.”

Brienne nods, plucking at her soaked shirt with a disgusted grimace then flushes as she catches sight of Jaime’s raised eyebrow.  She straightens.  “That’s still not enough time to get across the river, cleaned up and get into whatever club they’re playing.”  Her eyes widen before she groans.  “And I don’t have any house keys!”

Jaime smirks.  “Leave it to me,” he says.

*/*/*/*/*

The dwarf opens the door and stares, a drink carelessly held in one hand and an amused look in his mismatched eyes.

“You weren’t lying when you said she was a big one,” he says and steps aside to let them in.

*/*/*/*/*


	4. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Non-graphic violent scenes.

Brienne doesn’t know if she’s burning more with curiosity or humiliation as she rinses the shampoo from her hair.  Jaime and Tyrion had danced round the question of their relationship, calling each other brother but in a way that implied they were anything but.  She scowls as she shuts off the water and towels herself dry.

She wonders if she could convince Tyrion to spill some secrets if she gets him alone.  She pads to the closet he had shown her that was filled with women’s clothes.  She considers what’s hanging there with little hope.

At least she’s clean again, she thinks glumly as she starts digging through the closet, and realizes Tyrion has some very interesting lady friends.

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne follows the sound of male voices and walks into a lushly furnished office to find Jaime, now dressed in jeans and a green button-down shirt with his wet hair combed back, peering intently over Tyrion’s shoulder at a computer screen while Tyrion mans the keyboard.  They glance up when she steps into the room and she blushes furiously as their eyes widen and their mouths slowly sag open.  She holds up one hand before either of them can speak.

“I know I look ridiculous,” she growls, blushing furiously, “but it’s the only thing that half-fits.”

She tugs down the skirt of the shimmering silver lamé dress.  It ends at mid-thigh and clings far too closely to her non-existent figure and all she wants to do is to wrap herself in a blanket and shrink away from Jaime and Tyrion’s mocking eyes.

“Those legs…” Tyrion says faintly.

“Yes,” Jaime says just as faintly.

Brienne scowls as her blush deepens—something she hadn’t thought possible.  She tugs at the skirt again.

“Oh gods,” Tyrion groans, then, “I think the shoes are still here, too.”

“ _Shoes?_ ” Jaime and Brienne blurt out together.

“Silver stilettos.  Four inches.”

Jaime groans, “Are you _trying_ to kill me?” while Brienne shouts, “Are you _mad_?  I’m 6 foot three, you idiot!  I am _not_ wearing four inch heels!”

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne clutches at Jaime’s shoulder as she totters on the shoes from the seven hells towards the DragonPit nightclub.

He looks up at her— _way_ up, she thinks sourly—and smirks.

“If you go ass over tea kettle, Brienne, you better hope no one has a camera.”

“If I go down, you go down,” she growls and then frowns as Jaime’s eyes widen and glaze over.

“Oh, gods,” he gulps and quickly looks away.  He shakes his head then smiles charmingly at the bouncer guarding the front door of the club.

The bouncer is not quite as tall as Jaime but much broader, with wild orange hair and a beard to match.  Jaime’s smile becomes fixed when he sees the way the guy—Tormund, according to his name tag—is leering at Brienne’s endless legs in those stilettos and exposed by the silver lamé dress.

“What’s the cover charge?” Jaime says sharply.

“For you, twenty dragons; for her—not a thing,” the man grunts in a Northern accent and Jaime tries not to roll his eyes as he pulls the money out of his pocket.

Tormund opens the barrier without taking his eyes from Brienne, who stares back with a puzzled frown that slowly changes to dawning horror.

*/*/*/*/*

The club is throbbing with a heavy bass beat while the singer on stage screams into the mike, his voice nearly obscured by the screeching sounds Brienne thinks is supposed to be music.

Jaime grimaces at the discordant squealing out of the guitars and keyboard.  “These are the Faceless Men?” he shouts up at Brienne, who nods.  “Gods, the music of kids today!”

She shrugs and tugs her skirt down again and wonders if this hellish night is ever going to end.

Well, at least there’s one advantage to these fucking shoes:  she has an even better line of sight over the bouncing and gyrating crowd than she normally does.

Jaime focuses on the five band members on the stage, all dressed in outfits that are white on one side and black on the other.  There’s the long-haired lead singer with half his hair dyed white and the other half red.  The bass guitarist is a girl, small and gaunt, but not Arya, while the lead guitarist is a handsome man with a beard and the second guitarist is young and appears too sophisticated to be playing in a band where the lead singer is currently screaming something about faces and gods and the Stranger into the mike.  The drummer’s face is expressionless even as he pounds the drums with frenetic energy.  As for the keyboardist, hidden in the back behind the others—he touches Brienne’s arm and points.

“I see her,” she shouts over the noise…music…whatever, and takes a step forward.

His grip tightens and she scowls down at him.

“Look,” he yells, then grimaces.  He glances round for a quiet place they can talk and pulls her in the direction of the washrooms.

She resists but the shoes have her off-balance and she has no choice but to follow him or fall on her ass.

He pulls her into the men’s room and, after confirming it’s empty, he turns to her and says, “Look, she’s in plain sight.  Ned Stark said she could do what she wanted, within reason, so long as we have her home by midnight.”

“It’s way past midnight, Jaime,” Brienne growls.

“I know, which means we’re already fucked in that respect.”  He sighs.  “I don’t know about you, but I can’t handle another chase through the streets of King’s Landing tonight.  Let’s make our way backstage and wait for the band to take a break.”

She scowls.  “Backstage?  Bronna tells me the Clegane brothers run a tight ship in this club; you can’t just wander anywhere you’d like!  So just how are we supposed to get backstage?”

*/*/*/*/*

Tormund’s leering is even worse the second time round, especially since they need something from him.  The situation isn’t made any better by Jaime’s expression of disbelief as he peeks round the door and watches Brienne’s failed attempts to flirt with the bushy-haired bouncer.  She’s seen people flirt, she thinks grimly as she struggles to think of something to say; it doesn’t seem that difficult—Jaime does it with everybody and with every breath he takes, for gods’ sakes!  She, on the other hand, can’t seem to get past awkward pauses and half-finished sentences.

Finally, she heaves a sigh, grits her teeth and growls, “Look, I just want to get backstage and meet the band.  What will it take to make that happen?”

Tormund’s leer doesn’t change and his eyes stay focused on her legs.  “Oh, fuck, that’s usually twenty dragons but for you, just a kiss.”

“Twenty dragons it is,” Jaime says, practically leaping from the club’s entrance to Brienne’s side.

Tormund dismisses him with barely a glance.  “Twenty dragons and a kiss,” he says, leaning closer, lips puckered out.

Brienne puts her hand on his chest and easily holds him away.  “Twenty dragons,” she says, “no kiss, and I don’t break any of your bones.  Deal?”

Tormund eyes and grin widens.  “What a woman,” he says but he straightens and takes the money Jaime is holding out.  He speaks briefly into his two-way radio and leads them backstage.

*/*/*/*/*

The dressing room Tormund shows them to is blessedly quiet and Brienne’s relieved that at least they won’t spook Arya and Gendry yet again.  Since she’s currently a looming six-seven in these fucking shoes, she literally sticks out in a crowd.

Jaime throws himself on the couch, and Brienne lets herself be momentarily distracted by the way his green button-down shirt stretches across his broad chest and his jeans cling to his legs before she looks away and gingerly lowers herself on to a chair in front of the dressing table.

“How are your feet feeling in those things?” Jaime asks idly.

She glances at the shoes and shrugs.  “Not bad,” she grudgingly admits then asks a question that’s been festering in the back of her mind.  “Why do you think Tyrion had these clothes?”

“I’ve learned it’s better not to ask.”

She huffs a little, trying not to laugh, and looks back at the toes of her shoes.  “Is he really your brother?”

“I don’t know,” Jaime says.

She blinks startled eyes as she stares at him.

Jaime shrugs.  “I don’t know who my parents are, so he might be, I suppose.  Stranger things have happened.  As far as I’m concerned, though:  he’s my brother because I name him so.”  He suddenly grins at her.  “Maybe you and I are related, have you thought of that?”

Brienne snorts.  “The hair might work but the looks definitely don’t,” she says drily as she turns away only to be confronted with her reflection.  She grimaces at the sight and turns back towards Jaime to find him watching her with a thoughtful expression.

“Mayhaps we should have a DNA test done, just to be sure,” he says.

She raises an eyebrow.  “What does it matter?” she asks.

He’s silent for a long moment then suddenly grins.  “Curiosity,” he says glibly, “and if we are related, maybe you’ll put me in your will.”

She rolls her eyes.

*/*/*/*/*

They hear the band, talking loudly and rapidly and laughing as they come off stage.  They tumble into the room and stop in their tracks when they see Brienne at the dressing table, her long legs crossed, her foot gently swinging.

Arya is in the midst of them with Gendry bringing up the rear.  They both curse and turn to run only to have Jaime slam the door shut and lean against it.  His arms are crossed, his gold hand resting on top of his left arm.

The lead singer looks wildly from one to the other.

“Fuck, Arya, what trouble have you brought us this time?” the only other girl in the band says.

“They’re my babysitters,” Arya snarls, glaring at the speaker.  “I thought we’d given them the slip at the Mud Gate Bridge.”

“You did,” Brienne says.  “Hot Pie managed to chase us off the bridge with his car.  Luckily we know how to swim.”

“ _Hot Pie?_ ” Gendry blurts, surprised.  “Hot Pie doesn’t drive.”

Brienne rolls her eyes and turns to the lead singer.  “Arya’s parents asked us to watch over her while her family is on holidays.  Probably to keep you from stealing her away again.”

The lead singer sputters.  “I didn’t steal anybody, lady!  Arya does as she pleases or haven’t you figured that out?”

“She certainly does as she pleases when she has a couple of Tasers around,” Jaime says.

“What Tasers?” Arya snaps.

“And when she wants to vandalize a car,” Brienne adds, ignoring Arya’s outburst.

“That was my idea,” Gendry mutters.

“And if you hadn’t dropped your fucking wallet, they wouldn’t have found us!” Arya snaps, turning on him.

“Oh, gods,” Brienne growls and rises to her feet.  The band members gape as she unfolds to her full height.  She looms over them all and refuses to give in to her urge to tug her skirt down.  “I have so had enough of your _shit_ , Arya Stark!  You should keep in mind that I can phone your parents and tell them to cut their trip short because you’re an idiot.  Do you really want to explain to your parents why I’ve told them to come home?”

Arya flushes.

“Now, we are taking you home, and I swear to the old gods and the new, that if you try to run again, I will personally take all your money, all your ID and all your keys, and I will throw you into the Blackwater and leave you there!  We’ll see how resourceful you are then!”

The look on Brienne’s face must terrify them all because Arya’s eyes grow so wide they threaten to take up her entire face and then she simply gulps and nods.

*/*/*/*/*

They leave the DragonPit and walk towards the car Tyrion had kindly provided them, parked a couple of blocks away from the club.  Gendry and Arya walk between them, seemingly subdued but both Jaime and Brienne keep a sharp eye on the couple.

They’ve just crossed a quiet side street when two men jump them, with a third, fatter than the others, grabbing Arya and trying to drag her away.

Something snaps in Brienne.  Rage blurs her vision and with a guttural cry she shakes off her attacker like a dog shaking off water and gives him a hard kick to the chest, remembering at the last moment to change the angle of her foot so she doesn’t impale the stupid sot on her shoes.  She notices Arya using what looks like Dornish water dancer moves against her assailant and she sends the overweight man directly within Brienne’s reach.  Brienne takes advantage of the opportunity to punch the bastard’s face and only then realizes he’s one of the men who confronted them in the alley earlier that night.  The third man is sent reeling from Jaime’s gold hand and Brienne grabs the attacker and glares into his ordinary features before he recovers enough to punch her in the stomach.  She grunts at the impact and the pain and she reacts with a left hook that sends the bugger flying.

Then Brienne hears one wheeze out, “Let’s go, Raff!” and as suddenly as the attack began, they’re alone, with only the sound of curses and running footsteps ringing in their ears.

Brienne straightens and turns to glare after them, her ridiculous silver lamé dress gleaming in the dim light of the street lamps.

*/*/*/*/*

Jaime finds himself staring at her, unable to tear his gaze away.  She’s wild and angry and grim, and he thinks that in this light, she looks like some beautiful warrior woman from the Age of Magic, her dress gleaming like burnished steel.

*/*/*/*/*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** By the old gods and the new, I have GOT to stop writing these two into situations that require me to write fight scenes. ARGH.


	5. Four

Dawn is breaking by the time they finish at the police station and finally limp into the Stark house.  Jaime closes the front door and leans against it with an exhausted sigh while Arya and Gendry exchange a frightened look and bolt for the stairs.

“Arya!” Brienne barks and Arya freezes in mid-flee with Gendry sliding to a halt beside her.

“Look at me,” Brienne says firmly and Arya slowly turns, shoulders hunched although she makes a feeble attempt at keeping a rebellious glare on her face.  Brienne’s anger is cold and almost regal in its immensity as she pulls herself to her full height.  “If you are not in this house when I wake up; if you have left this house at any point while I’m asleep—and don’t think I won’t know!—I will tell your parents _every tiny detail_ about tonight, including how you forced Jaime and I to jump into the Blackwater.”

“I—I—I’m an adult and can do what I want,” Arya stammers in weak defiance, raising her chin.  “And we didn’t make you jump into the Blackwater!”

Gendry closes his eyes and groans softly.

Brienne’s smile is slow and almost cruel.  “Fine.  Then I will tell your parents you were a perfect little angel…and I will tell your _sister_ every tiny detail about tonight to use against you as she sees fit.”

Arya hisses in a breath as she searches Brienne’s face.  Her eyes widen when she sees the older woman is deadly serious.  Her face crumples and she turns and flees up the stairs with Gendry hot on her heels.

*/*/*/*/*

Brienne hears the bedroom door slam then Gendry’s knocking and soft voice, and when the door opens and closes a second time her shoulders slump. She limps into the living room and looks almost despairingly at the pristine sofa.  She’s just been cruel to a child, she aches all over, her head is pounding, she’s exhausted, and now she can’t even throw herself on the sofa in relief.

“They have three kids still living here with four hounds that look like they’ve come straight from the seven hells,” Brienne mutters.  “How does Catelyn keep things so fucking clean?”

“Maid service,” Jaime says drily as he rummages in a hall closet.  He walks past Brienne with a couple of blankets and spreads one over the sofa.  “Lie down before you fall down.”

She collapses on to the sofa with her arm flung across her eyes.

“You need to relax.”

Brienne lifts the arm that’s covering her eyes only long enough to send a ferocious—and, she hopes, fatal—scowl in Jaime’s direction before going back to counting the beats of her pounding headache.

“We were not hired to relax,” she growls.  “We were hired to watch Arya.”

“And we’ve done that.  In more ways than one,” Jaime says as he wanders round the room.  Even without looking, Brienne can see him in his snug jeans and button-down green shirt that makes his eyes glow like emeralds.  The pulse of her headache picks up speed.

She hears him settle into the armchair opposite her and knows if she looks, he’ll be bonelessly sprawled in it, all feline grace and arrogance.  She keeps her eyes resolutely shut, feeling utterly ridiculous in this stupid silver lamé dress that she’s sure is going to ride up too far to get off this fucking couch with any hope of modesty.

Jaime suddenly chuckles, a low, husky sound that puts all her senses and hormones on high alert.  She should be used to him after six weeks, she thinks bitterly, not to mention she’s been up all night and should be too exhausted to care, yet here she is, still reacting like she’s seeing him for the first time.

“Have you gone to sleep over there, wench?” he asks.

That makes her lift her arm so she can shoot him an incredulous glare.  “What is it with you and ‘wench’?”

“Ah, there you are!”  He cocks his head and thoughtfully considers her.  “I don’t know why you’re so downhearted.  We managed to find Ned Stark’s runaway princess—and we managed to keep finding her every time she gave us the slip…or forced us into a river.  A job well done, I’d say!”

She gives him an incredulous stare and once more puts her arm over her eyes.

“Are your feet sore from those shoes?” he asks after a moment of blessed silence that she should have known wasn’t going to last.

“My feet are fucking broken—and not just because of those shoes.  In case you didn’t notice, I beat the shit out of three men while wearing those instruments of torture.”

“I did notice,” he says with such warm admiration that she peers suspiciously out from beneath her arm.  He smirks at her.

“You certainly didn’t rush to my aid!”

“I didn’t think you needed it,” he says with what appears to be genuine surprise.  “Were you worried you wouldn’t win the fight?”

“That’s not the point,” she mutters going back beneath her arm.

He’s silent for so long that she dares another peek at him.  He’s watching her with an expression that she can’t quite decipher.

“No,” he says gently, “I suppose it’s not.”

She flushes.  “I suppose, though, I should thank you for thinking I was capable enough to take care of it myself.”

“I did punch the one guy so he stumbled within your reach.  And if it makes things better, I really was about to leap to your aid before you unleashed your fury on those unsuspecting miscreants.”

“ _Miscreants?_   That’s almost as bad as wench!”

He waves away her sarcasm.  “I was so startled, I stopped in my tracks and then I just enjoyed the mayhem.”  He gives her a wicked grin.  “I wish I had a camera.”

Brienne flushes again.  “You’re an idiot,” she snarls and goes back to counting the beats of her headache.

He chuckles and she hears him stand, but she refuses to look at him again as he walks round the house.  Considering everything that happened tonight and this morning, she doesn’t know how much damage control she’s going to have to do with Catelyn Stark or—gods—Chief of Police Eddard Stark.

She hears the sound of a glass clinking on the coffee table beside her then something large and soft covers her bare legs.  She lifts her arm and frowns.

“A blanket,” Jaime says helpfully, as though she couldn’t figure it out for herself.  “With legs as bare and long as yours, you’re bound to get cold while you’re sleeping.  Although it’s a shame to cover them up, really.  They’re quite something, even when you’re not trying to take the heads off some assholes in a darkened side street.”

She blushes so hard she thinks her head’s about to fly off her shoulders from the pressure.  She scrambles for the blanket and quickly makes sure she’s completely covered without quite looking at him.  It’s bad enough she’s beet red; she doesn’t want to see the mockery in his eyes when he realizes the effect of his words on her treacherous body.

She glances at the coffee table and sees a glass of water beside a bottle of Pycellenol and risks a glance at Jaime.

“Thank you,” she mutters, reaching for both.

He nods with a small smirk.  “Go to sleep,” he says.  “You’ve done more than your share tonight.  Bronna’s on her way.  I’m going to wait for her then I’m going to sack out in the drawing room.”

She too tired to do anything more than nod as she swallows two of the pills and lies back against the cushions.

*/*/*/*/*

When Brienne awakes, she finds that not only has Bronna arrived with a car riding on four inflated tires and bearing clothes for both Brienne and Jaime, but both Arya and Gendry are still inside the house.  Brienne gratefully pulls on her own clothes and shoves the hated silver lamé dress and matching stilettos at Bronna with a look that warns of retributions to come if she’s ever forced to explain how she ended up in such things.

Brienne, Jaime and Bronna find Arya and Gendry at the kitchen table.  Arya’s face is filled with bravado but her eyes skitter away from Brienne’s glower.  Gendry, Brienne is glad to see, looks far more subdued.

“All right,” Brienne says, planting her hands on her hips, “we need to call a truce or none of us will make it out of this week alive.”

Arya tried to give her a glare, glances at Gendry and deflates, giving her a small nod.

“It’s only for a week,” Jaime says.  “If you had stuck around in the first place, we could have worked something out.”

“A midnight curfew?” Arya blurts angrily.  “That’s insane!  And you can’t force me to be home by then anyway!”

“Your father told us he wants you home by midnight,” Brienne says firmly.  “More importantly: that’s what he asked you to do, right?  Did you _promise_ him you’d obey?”

Arya’s bottom lip pops out in a pout but she refuses to look at them or to answer.

“Arya?” Jaime says.

She glares.

Gendry sighs.  “Stop being a dumbass,” he says and Arya scowls at him then nods.

“Yes, I promised him I’d be home by midnight every night,” she mutters.

“Whether your word to your father means anything or not is your decision,” Brienne says.  “We, however, made a promise to your mother to keep you safe.  We can’t force you to obey your parents or even us—although after Hot Pie forced us to jump off the bridge last night—”

“Hot Pie wouldn’t have done that,” Gendry says.

“Well, a car—”

“Well, that proves it wasn’t him.  Hot Pie’s too scared to drive,” Arya says scornfully.

Jaime and Brienne exchange a puzzled glance, then Jaime says, “What about the Tasering after you gave us the slip at the Onion Knight?”

“Did you see any of us carrying a Taser?” Arya scoffs.

“Your friends?”

Arya just rolls her eyes.

Jaime and Brienne exchange another puzzled glance then Jaime shrugs.  “The point is, you keep saying you’re an adult.  Then you should damn well start acting like one.  How you deal with breaking your word to your father is between the two of you.  But no more running away.  No more vandalizing the car.  No more muggings in back alleys.”

“I’ve told you--that wasn’t us!” Arya says.  “We didn’t even know it had happened until you told us!”

“Really,” Jaime says skeptically.

“Really!  I swear!”

Brienne raises an eyebrow.  “Your word isn’t worth much right now,” she says, “and I assure you, we’ll find out the truth easily enough.”

“Look, maybe it was the guys who jumped us outside the DragonPit,” Gendry says, his voice anxious.

Jaime and Brienne exchange another glance.

“Mayhaps,” Brienne says calmly.  “Be that as it may, do we have a bargain, Arya?  Do what you want to do but we’ll be your bodyguards while you do it.”

Arya squirms a little.  “If I do that, do you promise not to tell Sansa…well, anything?”

Brienne holds out her hand.  “Deal,” she says.

Arya shakes her hand and everyone visibly relaxes until Arya frowns at Bronna.  “Aren’t you--?”

Bronna sighs.  “Yes.”

“Gods, please don’t bring that Joffrey idiot round here.”

“Can’t,” Bronna says with a thin smile.  “He’s on holidays with his family.”

Arya’s eyes pop wide.  “Well, that should make Sansa happy,” she says.

Jaime frowns.  “Sansa?  Why?”

“My family is on holiday with Joffrey’s dad,” Arya says carelessly, “and Sansa has had a huge crush on Joffrey since we were kids.”  She grimaces.  “His music is as insipid as he is,” she mutters.

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Bronna mutters, then more loudly, “all right, who wants eggs?”

*/*/*/*/*

“How was she?” Catelyn asks as the boys and dogs barrel through the house, shouting and barking.

Jaime and Brienne exchange a rueful look.

“There was an attempted mugging the first night,” Brienne says, “but after that…smooth as Myrish silk.”

Catelyn heaves an exhausted sigh and gives them a grateful smile.  “Thank you for looking out for her.”

“Any—”

“We have to go,” Jaime says hurriedly, his hand firm on Brienne’s arm.  “And you must be exhausted, Catelyn.  Come to the offices tomorrow after you’ve had some rest and we’ll give you a complete report.”

*/*/*/*/*

“What was that about?” Brienne demands when they’re in the car.

“Do you ever want to be a bodyguard to that girl ever again?”

Brienne’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.  “Good point.”

*/*/*/*/*


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Talk of domestic violence.
> 
>  **A/N1:** Did I remember to say this was unbetaed and all mistakes are my own??

Brienne walks in to the Jaime Lannister Investigations offices the next day to find Jaime sitting in the reception area’s armchair, reading a paper.

“Please tell me there’s no one we know in there,” she groans.

“There’s no one we know in here,” Jaime says with an obliging grin.  “How did you like sleeping in your own bed?”

“Loved it almost as much as getting to sleep before midnight,” she says.  “You?”

“Same,” he says.

They both glance over as Sam wanders from his office towards them.

“Heard your voices,” Sam says.  “I’ve finally finished going through what surveillance cameras I could find outside the Onion Knight and the DragonPit the night you were mugged.”

“We stopped the mugging,” Brienne says firmly.

“The second time, anyway,” Jaime says.

Sam nods absently.  “Well, like I told you a few days ago, there weren’t any surveillance cameras in those areas of the city, and it took me a little longer than usual to, erm, _access_ the surveillance cameras in the DragonPit.  I had to be very careful.”  He gives them a wide-eyed, terrified look.  “The Clegane brothers don’t react well when they know they’ve been hacked.”

Brienne puts a comforting hand on her employee’s shoulder.  “I know, Sam.”

“I haven’t learned much you didn’t already know.  The three men who jumped you outside the DragonPit were the ones who confronted you in the alley outside the Dunk and Egg pub where Hot Pie works.  They’re also the ones who tazed you after you left the Onion Knight.”

“So they deliberately followed us?” Brienne says.

“No,” Jaime says slowly, “they followed Arya.”  He scowls.  “Although…how did they find her at the DragonPit?”

They stand in a puzzled silence that’s broken when the door chimes and Bronna strides in, large sunglasses obscuring most of her face.

“Don’t you people ever work?” Bronna growls.

“You’re the one who’s late.  Again,” Jaime says with a teasing smile.

“Not in the mood, Jaime,” Bronna snaps then sighs as she puts her purse down on the desk.

Her three companions exchange surprised looks, then Brienne says, “What’s wrong?”

Bronna sighs again as she reaches up and removes her sunglasses, revealing her bruised and swollen eye.

“Bronna,” Brienne whispers, eyes wide with horror.  She hurries to her friend, her jaw clenched tight.  “Did Joffrey—?”

“Yeah, the asshole,” Bronna mutters.  “He broke our engagement last night.”

Jaime raises his eyebrow as he watches Brienne gently inspect Bronna’s bruises.

“And he punched you for good measure?” he asks drily.

“I apparently did not appear grief-stricken enough,” Bronna says, even more drily.

Jaime and Sam bristle at her words.  “Do we need to go have a _talk_ with him?” Jaime asks, his voice dangerously soft.

Bronna chuckles.  “Thanks, but no.  I’ve taken care of it.”  Her smile is sharp, her eyes cold.  “I did what my daddy taught me.  The prick should be pissing red for a week and hopefully singing falsetto for the rest of his life.”

Despite their anger, both Jaime and Sam automatically drop their hands to protect their crotches and cringe.

Bronna waves Brienne away and says, “Oh, I called 911 for the little shit afterwards.  Anonymously, of course.”

“Of course,” Brienne says.  “Seriously, Bronna, do you want to press charges?”

“No,” she says, and sighs.  “Look, I know you may not believe this, but Joffrey never physically hurt me until these last couple weeks.  He needs rehab, but his parents freaked the hells out when I suggested it.”  She sighs.  “Well, Robert seemed okay with the idea, but Joffrey’s stepmother— _ugh_!”

Jaime rears back and blinks.  “She doesn’t think the kid needs help?” he asks.

“The gods only know what that woman thinks,” Bronna says.

“So this means the engagement is officially over?” Brienne tentatively asks.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” Bronna growls, “but I’m not looking forward to telling my dad!”

Brienne scowls.  “Did he really want you to marry that asshole that badly?”

“He didn’t want me to marry that asshole at all!  Any more than I did, truth be told.  My stepmother’s the one with the boner for Joffrey’s dad.”  Her voice drips bile, “‘Big Bobby B, the King of Rock and Roll’.”  Bronna shakes her head.  “Not that I blame her; it was pretty much the only reason I wanted to marry the jerk once the infatuation wore off.  Or I sobered up.  Whichever.”  She shakes her head.  “Anyway, I can’t let my dad see my face until the bruises fade otherwise he’ll kill him, ‘Crown Prince of Rock’ or not.  And trust me:  nobody wants my dad spending the rest of his life in the Wall.”  She pauses then grins.  “He’d be running the place in less than thirty seconds.”

Jaime raises his eyebrow.  “I must meet this man,” he murmurs.

Brienne and Bronna thoughtfully consider him then exchange glances.

“We must never let them meet,” Brienne says flatly.

“Oh, gods, no!” Bronna agrees.  She glances at through the glass door.  “Now, enough about me.  What’s happened with Joffrey is over and done and besides--looks like we have a client.”

The door chimes and an elderly man steps into the office.  His hair is grey, his nose aquiline, his shoulders broad.  He’s impeccably dressed and walks tall and proud.  He glances from one to the other of them and says, “My name is Jon Arryn and I want to hire you to solve a murder.”

Brienne’s smile is professional.  “Of course,” she says.  “Who was murdered?”

“Me.”

######

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N:** I’m almost sorry to end it like this because this series is going to be on a short hiatus while I’m participating in National Novel Writing Month, so Episode 3 may not be ready until sometime in December. Of course, if my muses fizzle out during NaNoWriMo, then the hiatus will be shorter than planned. :D


End file.
